I (can't) remember
by jnicweb
Summary: "At least, that's what I tell myself to keep the panic at bay for at least a little while."
1. I remember

**Letter Merlin writes pretty soon after Arthur dies. Lots of angst. No slash.**

Dear Arthur,

Are you really gone? Sometimes I wonder if that day at Camlann really happened. I turn around with a sarcastic comment that I know you'll laugh at, but you're not there. You're never there. But then I remember. I remember that you are gone, and you'll probably never come back. I remember I failed in my most basic job. The very reason I am alive was to keep you safe. And now that you're gone, I remember all the time I spent saving your sorry ass from thieves, assassinations, evil sorcerers, plots to take over the kingdom and wonder if I could have saved myself all this heartache and just let that dagger strike you in the heart all those years ago when I didn't know what kind of man you were. Then I remember that it wouldn't have made a difference because I'm not that kind of person. I knew what a prat you were, and I still saved you. Because you deserve it. And I would do it a hundred times over, even knowing what I would be going through when you were gone. Because even then I think I saw the man I knew you could be, hidden underneath all the arrogance.

I saw the real you under your uncaring mask. I saw how you would treat your people, with respect and dignity.

I saw how you would treat those under you, with patience and even friendship.

I saw how you would treat your knights, with jokes and laughter and playful shoves.

I saw what you would expect from visiting dignitaries and not stand them insulting your manservant because damn it that was your job.

I saw how you would treat your undeserving little serving boy who had too much sass and not enough humility, who was too loyal to his king.

I saw how you would trade insults with the skinny boy from Ealdor who wondered at how he could get away with addressing his king as "prat."

I saw how you would treat your queen, who was just a servant, but you saw more for her. You looked past her status and saw the beautiful woman she was.

I like to believe that I saw all these things in a split second, when I chose to save your life that fateful day so long ago.

But I didn't.

I didn't see or know anything about you, other than the fact that you were about to die, and I could do something about it. And even though I now know the negative things too, like how you imprisoned magic users for simply existing, or how you were horribly judgmental about everything magic represents, I would save you from that knife every single time because I knew you would be worth all the heartache and pain. I knew you were a good man and you didn't deserve this death. And I knew that because I could do something about it, I did. I didn't give one thought to myself if I had been found out for using magic. Even though I didn't know it then, I somehow sensed that we would be inexplicably bound, by choice or not.

Ever since that day, I've stayed by your side, going into battles and patrols with nothing but the clothes on my back. I'm surprised you never thought it was weird that I never brought a weapon to anything, but managed to stay alive. I knew I had to protect you from whatever came our way. I think some would call it "unwavering loyalty" but I liked to call it "protecting the clotpole from his own sword." But, look where that "unwavering loyalty" got me. You're dead, and I'm alive. I don't know if that makes me any less loyal, or just a terrible protector. But, I always knew you would die at a very inopportune moment. Because you couldn't make my life easy could you? You were always adding more and more chores to my endless list of things I simply had to do that day. Go clean this Merlin, go fetch this Merlin, go do this Merlin. Oh, come here Merlin while I use you for target practice. I'd say that's some pretty intense loyalty. But maybe I'm being "a girl's petticoat."

And I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I got the short end of the stick, and now have to wait around for your return for who knows how long. I'll have to roam this earth alone, without you by my side. I don't know if I know, or want to know, how to do that. I will face the future alone, while you're probably sipping wine from an expensive goblet in the underworld laughing at my attempts at living without you. Actually, I don't want to think about what you're doing down there, because it makes it so much more real. I still can't really believe that you're gone. I forget sometimes.

But then I remember that it should have been me who died for you so you could return back to Camelot.

I remember what could have happened if I had only acted sooner, done more, or been _better_ at something. But I'm only a peasant from an obscure village who shouldn't have even had the pleasure of meeting you.

I remember that I should have had some skill to protect you from the dangers of being king. But, throughout all my clumsy attempts at saving you, you kept me around. You still insisted it was me who woke you every morning, and joined you on hunting trips, even though I scared all the animals away with my awkward clomping around. And somehow you saw the real me too, through the sarcastic, snarky comments and the gangly limbs that I still needed to grow into. I think you saw the "unwavering loyalty" and trust that comes only with knowing that person their entire lives. And even though I only knew you for a fraction of my life, I like to think I knew you enough to place my trust in you, and you in me. I like to think that we brought out the best in each other, whether purposeful or not.

The thing that hurts the most though, is that I wasn't able to protect you from the only thing that will never affect me. Time. I will always look the same as when you died. I will never age, never look older with wrinkles and laugh lines. I don't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing.

I know that if you come back and read this, you'll tease me for being so sentimental, but these are really just for me. I don't want these memories to fade with time, and these letters are a way for me to remember the brave Knights of the Round Table and their noble, fierce king.

Your friend,

Merlin

 **There will be a part two posted soon.**

 **Let me know what you think!**


	2. I can't remember

**Letter that Merlin writes to Arthur a while after he dies, but hasn't been reincarnated.**

Dear Arthur,

Today I saw someone who looked like you. They had blond hair and light blue eyes that shone like the cloudless sky. Is it sad that that's the most I can remember of you? It hit me like a punch to the stomach when I realized that that would likely be the closest I will ever get to seeing you. Because after all these years, you still haven't returned to me. The dragon told me I would see you again when Albion's need was greatest, but I am doubting even his wisdom. I am doubting anything in Camelot actually happened. It's been so long, and everyone is already dead. It's only me now. I am all that remains of the great kingdom of Camelot. And that saddens me. Because I thought you would be the one to make Camelot memorable, lasting centuries and multiple generations. But I failed in that too. With your death also came the death of Camelot. It's my fault your strong kingdom is just a figment of my imagination now. And even those figments are fading. Soon, Camelot will be the kingdom of fantasies and play pretend.

My memory is fading.

It scares me.

I can't quite remember exactly how Gaius' eyebrow shot up to his hair line when he wanted to look disbelieving.

I can't really remember the exact color of Gwen's hair. I remember it was brown and curly, but I don't remember what shade of brown, or how long it used to be.

I can't remember the feel of my old tunic's against my skin.

I don't remember if it was the red or blue neckerchief that was my favorite.

I can't remember if it was you or Gwen who gave me the nicest pair of boots I've ever owned.

I can't remember how Gwaine's laughter rang out in a room, lifting up everyone's spirits at just the right moment when everyone needed it most.

I can't remember the way Leon would bow low to the ground, seemingly respectful, but would end up making it look sarcastic and mocking.

I can't remember exactly how strong Percival used to be, and if he could break one man's skull in one hand, or two men's skulls. I can't remember how it looked when Elyan gave you that fond but exasperated look when he caught you and Gwen kissing.

I can't really remember how Lancelot's hair curled around his temple, or how grateful he looked when you knighted him.

I can't even remember how you looked in your Camelot red cloak. I don't remember the way you smiled at me, like you were trying not to, when I would make a comeback so good you had nothing to say.

I can't remember the way you said my name when I was being especially annoying, half amused, half resigned.

And it scares the hell out of me. I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget the best years of my life. I want to be able to remember, but it seems the harder I try, the more the memories slip out of my grasp.

It's scary to have lived so long you think part of your life was just a dream. When I'm really depressed, it's even hard to imagine the fear I felt when I thought about what would happen to me if you ever figured out if I had magic. But now, I couldn't care less what people think of me. It's like the life has been sucked out of me. I no longer find it fun to run out in the snow like we used to do in winter in Camelot. Instead, I find myself cursing the cold because it is inconvenient. I don't look old, but I feel old Arthur. I feel as old as time sometimes. I can't believe that I will have to endure time alone until you find your way back to me. Some days, it's all I can do to get out of bed and feed myself because I'm so depressed at the way the world is now, and the painful lack of memories in my head.

But sometimes I remember fragments of memories. Just little snippets, more like pictures out of a well-worn photo-album.

The brilliant red of the knights' cloaks, the ones that showed your bravery off for the rest of the world, the one I had wanted so badly because it marked you as a courageous man who was strong enough to be recognized by the king.

The way Gaius looked when he knew I was about to do something incredibly stupid, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop me.

The way Gwen looked when she glanced at you, and caught you staring.

The way Gwaine looked when he was at the tavern, rowdy and proud, regaling everyone with stories of his past "conquests."

The way Lancelot looked out for me, even though I told him I didn't need it.

The way Leon would roll his eyes at me when you were being especially boring in council meetings.

The way Percival looked when he knew he would be the only one strong enough to complete a job, proud his big size would finally come in handy instead of being a hindrance.

The way you looked at me when you were exhausted by my babbling, but couldn't quite bring yourself to tell me to shut up.

The way you looked in your armor about to risk your life on another important quest that simply had to be completed, no matter the consequences.

The way you met my gaze when we knew exactly what the other was thinking. I get flashes of faces and expressions, of colors and shapes.

It gives me hope that maybe Camelot wasn't a dream. Because even dreams couldn't be as vivid as the pictures and memories I still have. At least, that's what I tell myself to keep the panic at bay for at least a little while.

I know that if you come back and read this, you'll tease me for being so sentimental, but these are really just for me. I don't want these memories to fade with time, and these letters are a way for me to remember the brave Knights of the Round Table and their noble, fierce king.

Your friend,

Merlin

 **The end! I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think! This author's note has way too many exclamations!**


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